


Sometimes I've Been Violent (The World Is Awfully Tough)

by realpoutydadsurvives (collettephinz)



Series: Once More With Chris [2]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Angst, Derogatory Language, M/M, Rough Sex, Unhealthy Sex, be careful reading this one, drown in the angst, not very nice, oodles of maladaptive coping mechanisms, the chreon is only mentioned but it's the motivator so, unnegotiated choking/asphyxiation kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-24 01:05:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18560785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collettephinz/pseuds/realpoutydadsurvives
Summary: It's been four years of this shit-- taking orders from men he doesn't trust to follow people he doesn't like into fucked up places he doesn't want to be anywhere near-- and USSTRATCOM's Leon S. Kennedy just wants to feelsomethingeven if it hurts.





	Sometimes I've Been Violent (The World Is Awfully Tough)

**Author's Note:**

> i finished this in a day and i really have no idea how but here y'all go this is why shit is fucked
> 
> please keep in mind that this is only Leon's POV so you're missing literally half of the story ;u; Chris Redfield is not a bad guy or even a bad person in any way and he had his reasons for doing what he did. trust me and trust Chris. Leon's just-- not in that great of a place, but honestly, canon Leon isn't either and the way the gov just shoved him into USSTRATCOM and then DSO is all sorts of definitely illegal and technically blackmail and Leon S Kennedy deserves better
> 
> but yeah now you see how the S in Leon S Kennedy goes from Soft(tm) to Snark

“I’m just surprised some pretty boy like you knows how to handle a gun, let alone how to fight.”

Leon fought the urge to roll his eyes and shoot back something equally degrading. Jack Krauser was an oppressive weight beside him, the huge man having a least a foot on Leon and using that added height to his advantage, always looking down on Leon from over his nose since the moment Top Brass shoved them together and said they were partners. Leon wondered if Brass even understood the way the world worked beyond their cluttered desks and over-sweetened coffee. Partners weren’t assigned— partners were earned with blood and fear. 

“You look like you bathe in a tub of lotion every morning before single handedly murdering our o-zone layer for your hair,” Krauser said as he cleaned out the barrel of his gun, a smart Heckler & Koch 23 .45 ACP that looked tiny in the man’s hands. They were in the arms room of an Army facility in Kansas after having received their marching orders. Krauser had made it clear he’d be getting to the rendezvous for their assignment in South America on his own, so once they both finished a weapons selection and check, they’d be parting ways. Good riddance, if anyone asked Leon. He couldn’t stand the company he was being forced to keep, and the arms room was cold, all stone and no auxiliary heating. His fingers were stiff and Krauser was a giant fucking asshole.“Tell me, Kennedy— you ever killed a man?”

Leon sneered. “Why don’t you answer this first— you ever killed a friend?”

Krauser’s gaze snapped to him, almost deadly. Leon didn’t flinch, staring him down, refusing to be the one to break the gaze. 

To say Krauser didn’t like him was an understatement. The US SOCOM operative had made it clear the moment they were introduced, scowling down at Leon like he was the dirt beneath Krauser’s feet. Leon was sure the man had a heightened sense of superiority from more than just his judgement of Leon’s looks. Krauser had seen countless operations to successful ends, a true leader that got his men in and out alive with a job well done stamped onto the final report before being thrown into the next battle. 

Leon had met countless men and women just like Krauser after being “recruited”for USSTRATCOM and Krauser wouldn’t be the last. Men and women that were accustom to the most terrifying evil being in the form of a sick villain that killed recklessly in the name of terrorism. Leon never enjoyed working with people like Krauser, but he also never liked being the one to witness the bursting of their precious bubble when they stared down their first undead. It always got even harder when Leon would have to convince them that a simple zombie wouldn’t be the worst thing they’d see. There’d always be some eventual fallout, some break in the psyche that would either make a new hero in the fight against B.O.W.s or create a new victim. When Leon looked at Krauser, saw the way the man leered at Leon like Krauser was just waiting to prove he was better, Leon realized he didn’t know which outcome he preferred.

“Let’s get something straight, Kennedy,” Krauser said, voice low and grating in his chest like his lungs were broken. “You and I are from two different parts of this fight. I’m on the side that gets shit done. You’re the guy that sits behind a desk and tries to convince me that I’m supposed to play by the rules. But once we’re boots to the ground, it’s every man for himself. As far as I’m concerned, you’re no partner of mine. Not unless you prove to me otherwise. And even then, I doubt your manicured nails will allow you to get a bullet off before I’ve already saved your ass.”

Leon let himself roll his eyes. He’d heard that spiel so many times— he knew exactly how to put men and women like Krauser in their place. “Are you gonna keep calling me names or are you actually gonna act on what you want? Because honestly, I’m starting to think you’re a little obsessed with this pretty boy face.” He let his eyes drag up and down Krauser’s intimidating form, knowing this would hurt and hoping that it did. Men and women like Krauser were all fight and little else. If Leon just shoved something like this in their face, they’d turn their lip up in disdain and pretend he didn’t exist. “You seem more bark and no bite— maybe you should be proving yourself to me.” He let his eyes linger at the front of Krauser’s pants before cutting his eyes up to Krauser’s face and smirking arrogantly. “C’mon, Krauser— are you afraid the pretty boy’s got sharp teeth? Or am I really your superior like Brass says?”

Krauser stared at him like he wanted to cut out Leon’s tongue. Then that leer returned, the look in Krauser’s eyes reminding Leon of things he’d been working so hard to forget— cold, dark places, the smell of cigarettes— before Krauser was advancing with dangerous intent and taking Leon by the neck to slam him down on the table that held their equipment, bullets and slide pieces rattling as Leon grunted from the pain. His first instinct was to struggle, to bring his leg up and try to hook it around Krauser’s elbow to make him let go. Leon had shot his shot and had gotten it _wrong_ and now this tank of a man was going to kill Leon for being a disgusting little—

Krauser swooped in— Leon braced for a bite and the howling cry of a zombie— and kissed Leon hard enough to draw first blood with a sharp dig of his teeth into Leon’s lower lip. And that—

Jesus fucking—

Leon had played this game, he’d met the taunting with whatever he thought would get people to back off or hit him and leave him be, but he’d never had anyone take his advances and actually _meet him in the middle._ And Leon had been the one to start this, he’d been the one to look Krauser up and down like he was Thanksgiving dinner, there was no way Leon could back out of this without _really_ getting himself up shit creek. Krauser kissed him like he wanted to hurt him and Leon’s lungs ached from the lack of oxygen as he was devoured, humiliating little noises slipping from his mouth into Krauser, that huge hand still cinched tightly around his neck. His limbs spasmed desperately as his vision darkened at the edges, as he realized he was starting to die from asphyxiation. 

Krauser pulled away with a laugh that terrified Leon, his fingers finally loosening from around Leon’s jugular to allow him a few gasps of much needed air. Leon arched off the table with the force of the swallows, swallowing down oxygen and bringing his hands up to hold his neck, knowing he’d have bruises, going through the products he’d have to use to grab to cover up, the steps it took to hide those kinds of marks, the people he’d have to avoid and keep from looking too closely. Krauser laughed again, saying something that Leon couldn’t hear past the blood swimming in his ears. Leon tried to sit up and get his bearings back, still clutching his throat and struggling for breath, but a hand landed on his chest and shoved him back down onto the table with a bang, contents shaking again as the back of Leon’s head smacked the metal and stunned him. Then that hand was dragging down his chest, over his stomach, past his belt, and fondling the front of his BDU pants. The thrill of unexpected pleasure that shot through his body told him he was hard, and Leon had no idea how that was possible. 

“Should’ve known a kid looking like you would meet every one of my terrible expectations,” Krauser said as he groped Leon through the thick material of the cargo pants, Leon arching off the table for a different reason than air loss. “Look the part, act the part, right? Well you look like a fucking whore if I ever saw one— and you sure as hell talk like one.” Leon struggled with his thoughts, torn between the fear of what Krauser could do to him and the excitement of another hand on him, the rough palm giving Leon more than enough friction to get off, though he doubted Krauser would allow it. Whatever was happening here blew past so many rules of proper conduct, and Leon didn’t even know if he actually wanted this, but it had been so long since someone had touched him, he hadn’t been with anyone since—

Clarity shot through Leon as the memory of a face he would give anything to forget made his heart stop. He refused to remember— he would not fucking remember. Leon reached down with hands that he prayed weren’t shaking to grab Krauser’s wrist and drag those fingers to Leon’s mouth, taking two of the thick digits and swirling his tongue around them. “If you hate how I talk, why don’t you shut me up?” Leon got out with effort, knowing it wouldn’t take much more to unhinge Krauser completely. Leon knew— he knew how he looked. “All you’ve proven to me is you can throw me around,” Leon taunted, letting his tongue catch on the pad of a finger, letting Krauser see how Leon’s mouth glistened with blood and spit. “If I really am the whore you say, don’t you think I’m a little bored of that?” Then Leon grinned, nipping at the skin, rolling his hips into the air, hating himself down to his tainted heart. Four years was plenty of time to ruin someone like him. “Prove you’re more than just some grunt, Krauser— or I might just have to find someone better who can give me what I want.”

Leon didn’t actually know what he wanted, but he got the reaction he’d sought regardless. Krauser scowled again and that hand was torn from Leon’s grip to go back around his throat, squeezing tight enough to make his vision dance again, to make his heart race with the fear of death, but not enough to asphyxiate him. “Careful, kid,” Krauser growled. “Wouldn’t want me to break you before I need you to have my back.”

“Like— you could,” Leon choked out, not struggling in Krauser’s grip but glaring up defiantly. “I’ve fought bigger.”

“Oh I don’t intend to fight you, Kennedy.” Krauser used his free hand to grab the zipper at the front of his own crotch, dragged the pull down the teeth, yanking his cock from the confines of his pants and laughing when Leon couldn’t hide the way his eyes widened in unease at the size. Chris—

Leon shut down that thought as Krauser said, “For a whore, you really don’t seem all that confident you can take me.”

Leon couldn’t swallow past the hand at his throat, but he could use a freehand to flip Krauser off and spit, “I can take anything.”

Krauser laughed again, his thick cock bobbing between Leon’s legs. “If you think you can take it, why don’t you beg for it?”

As the hand finally released his neck, Leon’s throat went dry. He could feel the heat emanating off Krauser from where he was pinned to the table by bruising force on his legs and his inability to get Krauser out from between his knees. And Leon had been the one to start this, he couldn’t back down without really damaging Krauser’s perception of him, and if they were about to head into a small scale apocalypse, Leon really didn’t want the guy thinking he was dead weight or a coward. And god, even with the anxiety tugging at his chest, the ache in his lungs, Leon wanted to feel _something,_ even if it was a terrible thing to want. He looked up at Krauser and ignored the part of his mind that said brown eyes should be looking back, not the slate gray of Krauser’s nearly-hateful stare. He clenched his teeth and told himself he could always use another reason to hate who he’d become.

“Please,” he said, forcing the words out, but unable to meet that cold gaze any longer, tearing his eyes away. “Just— give it to me. Please. I-I need it.” 

Krauser’s lips stretched with a cruel smirk. “You need what?” He laid his hand over Leon’s tented pants again and Leon felt sick to know he could be aroused by this. He pushed hard and Leon winced. “Look at me when I’m talking to you. Say my fucking name.”

Leon looked up at the man from beneath his bangs and hated what he was about to do. “Please, Jack,” he said, softening his voice, filling the role, making himself sound as desperate as Krauser wanted. “Give me your cock. I need— I need you inside me.”

The distantly familiar words made Leon feel sick. 

Krauser seemed to love them. He laughed at Leon like he hated him and pulled his hands away from Leon’s body, looping them behind his own head. “If you want it so much, then why don’t you work for it?”

Leon scowled, bringing his foot up to plant it on Krauser’s stomach and push him back, finally slipping into a mentality he could handle. If Krauser thought he was tough shit and Leon was such a slut for it, then Leon would make Krauser want him more than Leon would act like he wanted Krauser. He sat back on the table and yanked his BDUs with his boxer briefs down his legs, wanting Krauser to know that Leon S. Kennedy wasn’t a fucking coward. The man’s brow flew up like he was tentatively surprised as Leon brought his feet up to brace them on the table, stretching his legs wide apart, knowing he was flexible and that just about any warm blooded creature found that irresistible. Leon shoved his own fingers into his mouth, slicking them up because they didn’t have anything better, and pressing them inside of himself, swallowing down the sharp pain of the stretch in favor of smiling haughtily at the larger man who was watching Leon with keen interest now. Leon had surprised Krauser again, and that felt pretty damn good. 

“What?” Leon asked, a little breathlessly as he worked his fingers quickly, the friction of spit not being enough making his words catch. “Thought I was lying?” He made himself laugh, hoping he sounded as hateful as Krauser. “I told you— I’ve fought bigger. You’re a small fry compared to the things I’ve seen.”

Krauser’s surprise died into nothing. Then he spat into his palm and jerked off his cock while stomping forward and yanking Leon’s hand away from his entrance. Krauser slammed his cock inside and Leon— was pretty sure he was dying, he couldn’t fucking breathe, the pain was so intense that all awareness fled his mind and left him shaking. He distantly heard Krauser’s harsh voice in his ear and the ache of being stretched too wide too fast. Oh god, he prayed this wouldn’t hurt him too badly, he needed to fight after this, he needed to survive, if Krauser hurt him so badly that Leon got himself killed, Chris would—

A dry sob tore itself from Leon’s throat, and Krauser chuckled like he thought it was a good thing even as Leon’s entire body protesting his very existence and everything that had happened to him. As consciousness returned to Leon’s thoughts, he found himself flooded with memories he wanted to kill, of another man above him, brown eyes so full of concern, asking every time he put his hands on Leon, kissing him like Leon was something precious. That voice in his ear, Chris’s voice telling him he was beautiful instead of Krauser rambling about how Leon was a good little slut. The emptiness in Leon’s chest grew twice its size and he turned his head into the table to hide his face as Krauser’s bruising thrusts started to build a heat in Leon’s body despite the pain that warred with the pleasure. Then Krauser fisted Leon’s cock and Leon cried out from how _fucking good_ it felt despite the tears that were brimming in his eyes, and Krauser only laughed harder. 

“You like it,” he snarled as he fucked Leon so hard that the table clattered dangerously with each thrust. “You like being used, don’t you? Everyone fucking uses you, this country, your CO, _me._ You’re made to be used and you _love it._ ” He slammed in harder and Leon whimpered helplessly, his vision blurring from either pain or insanity, he didn’t know which. “Tell me you love it,” Krauser ordered. When Leon failed to answer, his hand went around Leon’s neck again and he screamed, _“Tell me!”_

“Yes,” Leon barely got out, holding to Krauser’s arm because he had nothing else to cling to. “I love it, I love it, _please._ ” He hated it, he hated everything about his life and who he was. He hated Chris for leaving him behind and never looking for him, he hated Umbrella and the US Government and the world, and he hated Krauser because the only person who should ever be inside of Leon was Chris. “I love it,” he gasped despite that sickness that roiled in his stomach alongside the pleasure of his burgeoning orgasm. If anything, he only hated himself more for letting Krauser get him off. “Use me,” he begged, looking up at Krauser with tears and desperation in his blue eyes. “Just— fucking _use me._ ”

Krauser tightened his grip around his jugular so Leon couldn’t breathe again. He wheezed and scratched at the top of Krauser’s hand, but didn’t push him off. His lungs shrieked for air as Krauser’s thrusts came faster, jostling Leon up the table, Krauser’s hand on this throat being the only thing that kept Leon from falling off. His vision went black at the edges again and Leon stopped struggling entirely as the fight leeched from his bones. Despite his inability to breathe, Leon could smell cigarettes and only that. For a moment, above him, Krauser became Chris. Brown eyes, a gentle smile, and promising to never let anyone hurt Leon again. Promising to never leave him.

Leon came so hard he thought his heart would stop and wished he had died back in Raccoon City. 

Krauser let go of his neck and Leon swallowed down gulps of air as the man grunted in his ear and came inside, filling Leon with his seed with a final thrust. Leon felt worn down and ragged, like a husk of his former self. The orgasm hadn’t felt anything like it had with Chris— it only left him feeling used up and thrown away. 

“Jesus,” Krauser said after catching his breath. “Did I break you, kid?”

Leon had shattered into pieces years before Krauser had gotten his hands on him. “I’m fine,” he forced out, voice rattling from the abuse. He brought a hand to his wrecked throat and winced. Leon knew he needed to get up and get dressed and get ready and save face, but everything hurt like he’d been plowed over by a car, and he still had Chris’s voice echoing in his ears, destroying him more than Krauser’s abuse ever could. Leon wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and pretend he didn’t exist. Right now he could barely lift himself up off the table. He braced his free hand on the metal and tried to lift, but his arms were shaking, and as humiliation curdled in his gut, Krauser—

“Here.”

Took Leon by the shoulder and lifted him carefully, watching Leon with sharp eyes like he was looking for any injuries worse than what he’d inflicted. Leon stared up in dull shock, not sure if Krauser was trying to play some angle to make Leon think he cared. Krauser reached past Leon for something and brought a water bottle into view, pushing it towards Leon’s chest. “Drink that,” he ordered, which Leon did willingly. He had pride, but he also knew when his body was at its limit. Better to swallow the pride than swallow a bullet later. Leon tilted his head back gingerly to drink slowly, but when Krauser started to pull Leon’s pants back up his legs, he couldn’t keep from coughing a little, stunned. “Excuse me?” he rasped, frowning down at Krauser, who was on his knees, the last place Leon ever expected him to be. “Are you— what the fuck?”

Krauser snorted. “What, you think I want my partner to be a useless mess? I need you watching my back. I know I was a little rough, but nothing you can’t handle, right? You just come so highly recommended.” The sarcasm wasn’t lost on Leon, but he was still too thrown by how Krauser was actually helping him. “I don’t wanna end up dead in the water just because you bit off more than you could chew. Finish off that drink and get yourself cleaned off or whatever.” Krauser did the snap of Leon’s pants and moved away. “You better guzzle painkillers and be ready for the op— I’m not picking up your slack just because you decided you need a good fuck.” 

As Krauser turned to leave, Leon watched him go stupidly. Then something caught his eye to his right. “Krauser,” he called out. When the man turned to face him, Leon held up the H&K 23 and arched a brow, forcing himself back into his normal, flippant self rather than the sobbing mess Krauser had reduced him to. “What kind of solider forgets his gun?”

Instead of rising to the fight with a sneer like Leon had expected, Krauser smirked and came back to take the gun from Leon, his fingertips dragging along Leon’s wrist as he did. Then Krauser was pulling away again and leaving, giving Leon a two-fingered salute from over his shoulder before shutting the door behind himself. 

Leon sat in the harrowing quiet of the arms room and tried to tell himself that whatever had just happened didn’t matter. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to get control over his heart rate again. Instead, Chris’s smile lit up behind his eyelids and Leon dug his nails into his palm, hoping he would break the skin and bleed.

Over the last four years, since Leon had been taken by the US government and forced into servitude for USSTRATCOM for the sake of Sherry’s wellbeing, Leon had kept a close eye on Chris Redfield and the others. While Chris and David Trapp and Jill Valentine were quiet in their dealings, Leon was still following their slow dismantling of Umbrella from the inside out. He knew there was talking of a public organization intended for B.O.W. disintegration and destruction and that Chris was intending to be at the forefront. Claire was working with various persons in relief work and there seemed to be another official organization in the works there as well. Rebecca was working well within the scientific community and gaining funding for virus and vaccination research that was observed keenly. Everyone— all of them were fine. Rockfort Island had been dangerous, Leon had looked into the aftermath of that as well, the insane Ashfords and the tragedy of Steve Burnside, but Chris had walked away from that without a scratch and he—

He hadn’t come for Leon.

“Get out of my head,” Leon whispered to himself as Chris’s treacherous grin and soothing voice tugged at his ragged psyche. “Just— leave me alone. Please.” Let the memories leave him alone just as Chris himself had done. Let the echoes of Chris’s laughter and encouragement and praise die with what had died within Leon when he’d finally realized rescue was never coming. He’d been happy for such a short amount period of time, and yet that happiness would be what killed him in the end. 

“Leave me alone, Chris,” he begged as his body ached and yearned for a man that he would never have again. Four years wasn’t long enough to overcome what had been ruined inside of Leon. He wished he’d never met Chris Redfield so he never would have known what it felt like to be wanted and cared for. Leon wished he could take it all back. He wished he could have died in Raccoon City. He wished he could have died to his parents’ torture. He wished he’d never been born. He wished—

Stop it, Leon.

It had been years since he’d gotten lost in his thoughts. It was a habit he had broken ages ago, but just one thought of Chris Redfield had brought it all back. Maybe Krauser really did have a point. Leon was in no state to be watching anyone’s six like this. But he couldn’t back down and he couldn’t hide away when the safety of the world was at stake. And Sherry—

Sherry.

Sherry needed him. And once Leon finished this assignment, he’d request visitation with her and the family that was caring for her in protective custody. Maybe a stop at Sherry’s favorite diner, or they could walk around the mall a little. Or maybe they’d see a movie and he’d throw popcorn at her when she inevitably fell asleep in the middle of it. He’d request visitation to see Sherry and he’d hear all about her day at school and upcoming prom and her grades. Sixteen and growing up with bright eyes that lacked fear and pain. That— that was all Leon wanted. All Leon needed. So long as Sherry had the life she deserved and she knew Leon loved her like a father, then Leon would keep going.

Leon dropped down from the table and checked his limbs carefully, finding each area that hurt the most and blocking it away in his head, compartmentalizing and ignoring the pain as he’d trained himself to do as a child. He gathered up his own weapon— a S.T.A.R.S. issued Samurai Edge with another man’s name engraved in the gleaming metal, a Samurai Edge that Leon has named _Rot_ — and headed for the door Krauser had disappeared behind, steeling his jaw and holding his chin up. 

It didn’t matter how much it hurt him to remember or continued to live— he was making the world a safer place for Sherry. That was all he was good for and all he would ever be used to do, as decreed by the friends he’d made in Raccoon City who had abandoned him completely.


End file.
